She went to her purse, retrieved her phone, and held it up. “Can I take a few pictures?”
Could I say no? “Uh, sure.” I didn’t smile and stood awkwardly as the camera snapped away.
The phone was set down and a measuring tape retrieved next. Jennifer went about her business as if I were more an object than a person, taking my measurements and recording the information in her phone. She asked how tall I was and my shoe size, and when she look satisfied, she picked up her purse.
“I’ll be back later in the week with some options.”
Jennifer left as abruptly as she’d arrived. She’d seemed on a mission, and I wondered if Luka had ordered her not to socialize with his prisoner. She knew I was his captive because she locked me in as she left.
A while after Jennifer’s visit, the door was unlocked, pushed open, and revealed Luka standing in the hallway. He wore black pants, a gray patterned dress shirt, and a black tie that had been tugged loose. I was instantly anxious.
“I’ve got lunch ready.” He turned, not waiting for me, and headed back to the stairs.
He’d set out the food his chef had prepared, because I could see the marked containers stacked beside the sink. He sat down at the table he’d fucked me on last night, and began to eat. How could he be so indifferent to it all? I sank down into the seat opposite him.
There was no conversation, making me tense. Why had he bothered to come home for lunch if we weren’t going to say anything? I couldn’t handle the silence another moment.
“How’s work, darling?” I asked, my tone pointed.
His chewing slowed and his gaze tightened on mine.
Since I didn’t get a response, it pushed me further. “My day’s been great. Nothing to do but sit around and wait for you.”
He set his fork down deliberately, and his expression hardened. “I don’t care for the attitude.”
“Well, I don’t care for missing class when I’m not sick.”
“You want to miss class because you don’t feel well?” His words were laced with the threat. “I can make that happen.”
I blew out a breath and my shoulders slumped. Luka had trapped me in this awful position, but he was also trying to make the best of it. He could have taken the easy way out and left me at that dinner table with his father. Not only would he be rid of me, but he wouldn’t have been forced into making the deal with his uncle.
So I shouldn’t be lashing out at him, since my goal was to earn his trust. I sighed. “I’m sorry. This is . . . hard for me.”
Luka blinked and his gaze drifted away from mine. His voice came out less confident than usual. “I know it is.”
We plunged into silence once more, but this time it wasn’t quite as oppressive.
He picked up his fork, but hesitated. “Eat your lunch. I have something for you after that might make it easier.”
“A time machine?” I asked.
His eyebrow pulled upward. I looked down at my plate of chicken parmesan and got busy eating so it would keep my mouth occupied.
The lack of conversation wasn’t uncomfortable. It was clear Luka was a man of few words, but I longed to know more. He’d gone through all of my stuff, had read my application essay, and prodded me for information. He knew a lot more about me than I did about him. My heartbeat picked up as I attempted a conversation.
“You look nice,” I eked out.
His eyes clouded with suspicion. I couldn’t blame him, but it wasn’t a lie. He looked great in his professional clothes. He’d rolled back his sleeves, showing off an expensive watch, and the dress shirt fit him expertly.
“Do you have to wear a tie, or choose to?”
He appeared to consider his answer carefully. “I don’t have to, but I like to look my best.” His coal-colored eyes deepened. “Just like you.” He’d finished his lunch, and now I seemed to be his primary focus. “But you should be aware you look your best when you’re not wearing anything at all.”
My mouth went dry. I thought the same of him, but there was no way I’d say it out loud.
Luka’s phone, which rested face up on the table, chimed with a text message. He scooped it up, typed out a response, and set his gaze on me. Something sexual lingered in his dark eyes, and it made me pinch my knees together.
“Your time is my time,” he said, matter-of-factly. “So you’re going to use my time to bring yourself right to the edge of orgasm, but you won’t come. You’ll do it twice before I’m back at six fifteen.”
My mind stumbled over the assignment. “I . . . there’s not a clock in my room.”